Late August / Early September
Yellowstone's Summer of Fire
by Frank Markley
Introduction
When we were told at work in early 1982 that we could not take any vacations of two weeks or more in the summer months of June, July, or August, our busiest months, I was disappointed. But I requested a week at the end of August and the first week of September for a trip to Yellowstone with my younger brother Guy, who would be entering the Air Force in January. My two previous trips to Yellowstone had been in June, and I knew I would miss the fresh spring air, wildflowers, and newborn wildlife I enjoyed so much before. But as often happens in life, some of the best surprises come from things we didn’t plan on. In this case, I found that late summer was very pleasant in Yellowstone, the crowds had thinned, bugs were gone, and I had fresher memories of the Grand Old Park to last me through the long Ohio winter months. After that I always looked forward to taking vacation at this time of year, and usually to Yellowstone. So in early 1988 when I made my summer reservations for Yellowstone lodging, I booked a room in the Old House section of the Old Faithful Inn for Tuesday, August 30, through the night of Tuesday, September 6, and spent the rest of the winter and spring dreaming of the crisp mountain air and sunny mild late-summer afternoons I would spend exploring Yellowstone.
But the summer of 1988 began dry with record heat into the 100s in our part of the country, and we soon began to hear of record drought and heat out west as well, with wildfires thriving under these conditions. Some time in late June or early July, Amy, a woman I worked with, told me she heard on the news that there was a fire in Yellowstone that they thought might come through the Old Faithful area. The next day I brought her a photo of the area I had taken from the observation trail, showed her where I had been staying at the Old Faithful Inn, and told her it seemed that with all the parking lots surrounding the structure it should be pretty safe from any threat of fire if fire indeed ever reached the area--and of course the media sometimes exaggerates these things. But as the summer went on it became apparent there was a serious problem in many parts of the west, and especially Yellowstone. On the evening news we began seeing footage of flames destroying acres of trees. And just a few weeks before my intended trip it really hit home for me when I watched reports of the evacuation of Canyon Village, with clips of employees knocking on cabin doors asking visitors to pack their things and leave. These reports made it clear that there was no end in sight to the fires, and I began to realize my trip to Yellowstone--if it could be taken at all--would not be “business as usual.”
I am one who prefers to plan trips out as much as possible, and am definitely not a firetruck chaser. In the days to follow I called Yellowstone several times asking about conditions and learned that the park was still open, the Inn was still honoring reservations, and that entrance and road closures could vary from day to day. The reassurance I had hoped for (but in the back of my mind knew they could not give) was not there. There were forces at work here that were out of everyone’s control. It was a very difficult decision for me to make, but finally I decided to at least head that way, continue to listen to reports on the news, and possibly instead spend the week at Rocky Mountain National Park in nearby Colorado, an area I had enjoyed many times in the 1970s. By the time I began my trip on Saturday, August 27, the fires, and especially the fires in Yellowstone, had become leading national news. Each hour, no matter where I was, it seemed there was more bad news. I still hadn't decided for sure where I would go, and it wasn’t until Monday morning in Rapid City that I made the final decision to continue on to Yellowstone, partly out of necessity, since I had to decide the route for the day, and Colorado and Yellowstone were in two distinctly different directions.
It is now a matter of record what happened in the days and weeks ahead, but at the time it was, of course, a total unknown. I had no idea what to expect. Although the park was still open, the news I heard reported declining attendance but seldom what visitors there were actually experiencing while all this was going on. I had been to the park several times before, so I had already seen most things I really wanted to see under favorable circumstances. I was curious how it would compare now. At the same time I couldn’t help wondering if this would turn out to be one of the most foolish things I had done. Little could I or anyone know that my last scheduled night at the Old Faithful Inn would also be the Inn’s last night to be open, before the firestorm of the next day, Sept. 7, would force the evacuation of the Old Faithful complex and seriously threaten the historic 1904 structure itself. This “trip report” of the week leading up to Sept. 7 was written from journal entries I made each night during my Aug./Sept. 1988 trip to Yellowstone. I know there are those--employees, firefighters, members of the media, and others--who saw and experienced more than I did, and I don’t intend this to be a definitive statement on the Fires of ‘88. This is simply an account of the experiences of one out of many. I am sure each of us that were in some way a part of Yellowstone’s summer of 1988 will carry the memory with us for the rest of our lives. This is how I remember it.
The day was spent driving from my apartment in Loudonville, Ohio to my first night’s rest at Rochester, Minnesota. When I left early this morning, I saw one of the house painters who has been painting our house the past week or so getting ready for his day’s work. He saw me putting some things in the car and asked where I was headed. I just told him “out west” and he said he had heard the fires were getting pretty bad in Yellowstone Park. I told him that’s what I had heard too--a little embarassed to tell him where I planned to spend most of my time. It was a long day of driving, and it felt good to finally reach my reserved room in Rochester, Minnesota around 10PM central time.
Sunday, August 28
I got up around 8:30AM, went out to eat, and left Rochester, Minnesota, about 10:30 AM. The day was spent traveling across Minnesota and most of South Dakota to Sturgis, where I am staying this second night of my vacation.
It was sunny and cool all day, so travel was not as tiring as it sometimes can be. The sunset (from about 8:00 PM here) was even and pretty as an orange glow lined the bottom of the deepening-blue sky.
Monday, August 29
After breakfast at the Boulder Canyon Restaurant in Sturgis, SD, I returned to my room to try to decide whether I should travel on to Yellowstone or to Denver/Estes Park. The news during my trip so far has not been encouraging as reports of road and area closings and firefighting activity are broadcast hourly over my car radio.
I made a few calls to Colorado asking about room vacancies, learning that rooms were still open in Estes Park for tonight and the week to come. But I couldn’t leave my room without once again calling Yellowstone to ask about road closures. The young woman at reservations said all but the south entrance are open, and that there is currently car access to the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. All opening and closings are, she stressed, tentative. It was almost checkout time, and I had to get out of the room and on the road soon, so I spent the next ten minutes or so thinking it over, and finally decided that I had come this far, this would undoubtedly be an
Tuesday, August 30
This morning I drove the road from Cody to Yellowstone's east entrance. Although I have often enjoyed this route's exceptionally scenic beauty in the past, today the visibility is poor with a smoky haze that resembles clouds and rain.
Once at Yellowstone, I was charged no entrance fee "because of the fires," the rather cheerful attendant explained. Mine was the only car at the gate, and the atmosphere there seemed rather informal and unofficial. For awhile, all looked untouched by fire as I passed forests, rivers, rocky hillsides, and lakes. But it was quickly apparent everything was not "business as usual."
My first stop was the stately, sprawling Lake Hotel. I walked through the open door of the rear entrance to find furniture covered and workmen busy making renovations inside and out. Though the hotel was scheduled to be open at this time, the lack of paying overnight guests forced a premature closing of this historic 19th century facility. Great columns of white smoke arose in the distance across Yellowstone Lake, the largest coming from the Old Faithful area and widening in the sky overhead as it passed into the hazy east. At 3PM, the sun shone as a distinct glowing dull orange disk through this massive cloud of smoke, tipping the waves on Yellowstone Lake with a fine deep-orange-colored trim.
As I drove along the western edge of Yellowstone Lake near the West Thumb area, I saw charred standing and fallen trees lining the roadside. In some places, red plastic ribbon was stretched across pulloffs to protect curious motorists from the dangers of often-hidden smoldering areas or falling snags.
Blue sky could occasionally be seen--though somewhat hazy--in many areas as I worked my way through the park. The soft glow of the afternoon sun as it filtered through the smoke gave the entire area a misty, amber haze that suggested the overcast of a rainy day, but without the steely gray and dampness.
Bus loads of tourists continue to arrive at the Old Faithful complex. But there is no doubt the crowds are smaller than in years past. Loss of attendance, not the fires directly, has caused the premature closings of Lake Hotel, Canyon Lodge cabins, Snow Lodge, Old Faithful Lodge and--disappointing to me--its cafeteria. Dining throughout the park is limited to meals in the dining halls at Old Faithful Inn and Mammoth Hotel, the cafeteria at Lake Lodge, and lunch counters at the Hamilton Stores.
I would not recommend Yellowstone this year for a first-time visitor. It is too hazy and too many facilities are closed. But I have seen Yellowstone in more favorable years, and I wanted to see this natural phase of its existence. The constant odor of burning pine indoors and out is at this point not unpleasant. In more heavily used areas throughout the park, a taped message plays continually at the end of the AM dial. It tells us the forest has seen major fires about every 300 years. The last great Yellowstone fires were in the 1600s or 1700s. In an ecological sense, we are told, the fires are good because they allow new growth: new meadows will encourage new species that disappeared from the park long before our time.
The evening's activities at Old Faithful Inn, where I am staying, seem strangely unaffected by the natural outdoor events that surround us. Though the fires provide ready and frequent conversation for strangers, the laughter of good company and fussing of travel-weary babies continue as they have since the park opened many years ago. Here, on this late-summer evening, there is no apparent fear or anxiety caused by the fire which burns in a valley just a few miles away. We are told the fires become less active at night, and I think most of us believe we would be notified if any immediate danger threatened. We feel a comradeship in the shared experience of perhaps being looked upon with a degree of suspicion by our friends and acquaintances when they learned we chose Yellowstone as this year's vacation destination. But we know to ourselves we feel safe tonight. Without expressing it there is a degree of excitement in the air that we will not be able to fully describe when we get home. We are glad we are a part of it. We are surrounded by others who took a degree of risk coming here. Many of us here this evening have gone outside and looked toward the west to see if we can really see flames or a glow from the North Fork fire that burns in the not-too-distant valley behind us. Would it be as we pictured it earlier this summer as we listened to news reports and tried to visualize the scene for ourselves? But on this evening and at this location, we see no flames and no glow. The haze of the air obscures visibility and the geographical placement of the fire hides all but its unmistakable smoke. Now we know.
Wednesday, August 31
With increasing breezes, yesterday's haze has been swept away and all appears somewhat brighter, though certainly not clear. This morning when I stopped at the Old Faithful Visitor Center I learned that the Canyon area, my intended destination, is now closed. A map on the information counter shows areas currently open in the park. Based on this, I decided to go to Norris Geyser Basin today, keeping in mind the rangers' warnings that roads can close at any time. They suggest motorists carry along essential items in case of unexpected long-term delays.
During today's drive I saw much more evidence of the fire's influence than I had seen yesterday. Fountain Flat Drive, which runs through a large, level, open area, has been closed and is now being used as a temporary heliport. As I continued driving north, I passed Madison Junction, where a firefighter base is visible from the Grand Loop road. Rows of simple green pup tents hug the ground amid occasional clotheslines. A handful of firefighters remained at the camp. From Madison to Norris, I passed many areas where fires have burned to the edge of the road. In the woods across from the Gibbon Creek picnic area, I saw smoke rising and the flames of a few unchecked ground fires. About a half hour later, fire trucks came up the road in the direction of this burning area. Visitors are advised not to be overly concerned at the sight of unattended fires; rangers and other personnel, we are told, constantly patrol the park and are on the lookout for these developments.
When I reached Norris Junction, there was a roadblock in front of the access road to the geyser basin. Two park employees--one seated in a folding chair--were in the middle of the road near the four-way intersection, where they provided information to passing motorists. The man in the folding chair told me fires are still being extinguished in the area, and that they expect Norris Geyser Basin to reopen tomorrow.
I was disappointed with the news of the closing, and slowly worked my way back toward the Old Faithful area. In midafternoon, I stopped along the Gibbon River to rest on a large riverside boulder and have lunch. The rapidly flowing river was peaceful and strangely beautiful in spite of the ever-present haze and clutter of charred tree trunks across the stream. Occasionally helicopters flew overhead, towing suspended canisters of water or fire retardant to the backcountry.
The Gibbon Falls picnic area was particularly devastated by recent fire. What remains offers no hint of the beauty of the formerly wooded spot. The ground is spongy with light gray ash--its loosely packed, lifeless surface easily disturbed with a kick of the foot. It reminded me of the days-old remains of a huge campfire. Charred trees are strewn throughout the area. Many have fallen across the barren landscape, while others stand awaiting their inevitable fall. The scene here is strangely silent, disrupted only by the sound of the nearby rushing river and the buzzing of occasional insects that seem to enjoy the forbidding landscape. Nearly everything appears destroyed, and I am surprised to find the two restrooms and most picnic tables unburned.
Firefighters are visible throughout the park at work and off duty. Today I saw some of these men and women walking in groups to Old Faithful, where they sat with tourists and shared the same wonder and excitement, taking pictures to remember this day in less uncertain times. Other firefighters walked along the Upper Geyser Basin.
Earlier in the day, I heard rumors that reinforcement ground crews were expected to arrive at the Old Faithful area this evening. While taking a walk around 7PM, I saw several fire trucks parked in the rear of the large parking lot behind the Old Faithful Inn. Near the trucks, some of the firefighters passed time joking, tossing a ball, and generally unwinding while awaiting more serious assignments. Others stood at phone booths outside the visitor center making calls.
(M) 8-29-88
(Tu) 8-30-88
(Tu) 8-30-88
Thumb Geyser Basin
(Tu) 8-30-88
Yellowstone Lake
(Tu) 8-30-88
(W) 8-31-88
(W) 8-31-88
(W) 8-31-88
This morning I stopped at the Old Faithful visitor center to check on road closures, and found all roads in the park reported open. Though I planned on going to the Tetons, I decided this might be a good chance to visit the Canyon area.
There was extensive damage along the road between Norris and Canyon Village, with smoke and small fires continuing in places. In one area, firefighters attempted to contain a blaze while flaggers restricted traffic to one lane. A makeshift helicopter landing site has been placed at the Cascade Lake trailhead, a large open area along the Norris-to-Canyon road. Temporary shelters have been set up here for attending workers. When I saw a helicopter approach, all traffic was stopped, allowing it to land on the road to pick up pallets of supplies and equipment.
As I neared Canyon Village, smoky haze increased dramatically. Some buildings in the area--including all tourist cabins--were closed, but the gas station, photo store, post office, and visitor center remained open. A bulletin board outside the front entrance of the Canyon visitor center carries newspaper clippings reporting fire activity, and an impromptu sign advises the media to stop at the rangers’ desk. While I was there, firefighters in Canyon Village seemed to outnumber visitors. Occasional fire trucks pulled into the nearly empty parking lots as the serious business of fire prevention coincides strangely with the far less serious affairs of tourists. Both seem to understand the role of the other, and each allows the other to go about their activities with as little interference as possible.
The scenic drive along the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone was closed to traffic this afternoon. I drove on to find the road to Artist Point also blocked. But a dozen or more cars were parked along the roadside and people were walking down the closed road. Thinking the canyon was accessible only by foot traffic, I parked my car and began walking the road I knew would eventually lead back to the falls and canyon rim views. Before I got very far, a park ranger slowly drove around the corner, following a group of several pedestrians. Over his cruiser’s loudspeaker, the ranger warned all to turn back because there were still active fires in the area. A rather indignant older woman told me she had seen no evidence of fire activity--and that she saw a pair of young men venturing down one of the hiking trails. I returned to my car, as most of the others did, and continued driving down the road toward Old Faithful.
At a large parking area in Hayden Valley, a helicopter hovered nearby, dipped a massive cable-suspended bucket into the Yellowstone River, then flew approximately a half mile east to drop the water over a wooded area. It returned to the river about five times while I was there. Finally, a last, leaky canister was filled, and the chopper flew over bystanders and on past the road to a location out of our view to the west of us. A ranger, who had been watching the activity closely, warned bystanders they would have to disperse if the helicopter continued to fly directly overhead. But it appeared to have gone on to another area and did not return while I was there.
Continuing my drive back toward Old Faithful, I stopped at Mud Volcano, one of my favorite areas in Yellowstone, to walk the boardwalk and trails. As I neared the parking lot, three bus loads of firefighters drove in, and these men and women began a tour of this small corner of Wonderland. They seemed to be enjoying the afternoon, laughing and joking as they walked.
Later, I walked along the shoreline of Yellowstone Lake in front of the deserted Lake Hotel. A thick haze of smoke severely limited visibility, and the lake imperceptibly merged into smoky sky. I literally could not tell where one ended and the other began. While I sat on a log along the shore, a red tailed hawk flew to a nearby tree and remained for perhaps twenty minutes, calmly surveying the scene that must have seemed about as strange to this Yellowstone native as it did to me. A scurrying chipmunk brought only a disinterested glance from this bird of prey.
Animals seem much more conspicuous this year compared to my past late-summer visits, and I wonder if the fires have forced some of them to more open, visible areas. Earlier today I saw a moose grazing, oblivious to the firefighting helicopter that hovered overhead. A pelican swam along the edge of Yellowstone Lake, joined by mergansers and Canada geese. In back of Lake Hotel a solitary coyote tracked an afternoon meal. Elk and bison appear in great numbers throughout the park.
(W) 8-31-88
(W) 8-31-88 about 7PM
(Th) 9-1-88
This morning after breakfast at the Old Faithful Inn I took a quick walk to the visitor center to check on road conditions. The south entrance road to the Tetons was open for the first time since I arrived here. Because road closings can change from day to day, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and travel to the Tetons for the afternoon. Rangers continue to warn travelers to take overnight necessities along when venturing out of easy travel distance from planned overnight lodgings. So I packed a few bags and left, knowing there would be a chance I might not be able to return to the Inn for the night or possibly longer. The belongings I left behind would have to wait for my return, and I could be charged for each night the room remained unused.
The drive from Old Faithful to the Tetons was not the leisurely scenic ride I had enjoyed during past visits. The first obstacle was Craig Pass which, being situated at the lower part of Yellowstone’s grand loop road, is one of the park's most frequently traveled stretches. Literature this year warns of delays and road closures due to construction in this area. But construction plans were made before the further complication of fires had been anticipated. In some stretches of the road over Craig Pass, pavement has been removed completely, down to the same dirt surface traveled by early Yellowstone tourists. Loose gravel and dust flies into the unusually dry September air with each passing vehicle. During construction hours, crew members attempt to hose down dusty surfaces, but in this dry summer, the results are less than favorable.
With Craig Pass behind me, airborne gravel and dust were replaced by an ever-thickening haze of smoke, steadily increasing in density as I passed West Thumb and Grant Village. The source of all this smoke was soon apparent along the Lewis River between Lewis Lake and the south entrance. Although no fires were visible from the road, fire crews could be seen moving in groups, chainsaws in hand, cutting fire lines to discourage the spread of nearing flames. Some crews cut logs into a manageable size, neatly stacking them at spaced distances along the road. Traffic was occasionally flagged to a stop to avoid the danger of a falling lodgepole pine and its branches. Recently burned tree trunks offered grim evidence of why this road has been closed in recent days. At one point a fire truck sat rumbling alongside the road, pumping water through a leaky hose far into the woods. As smoke thickened, it was easy to understand how the steadily stronger afternoon winds could fan this smoldering area back into flames. But I had gone this far, I was prepared to spend the night at Jackson Hole if necessary, and the idea of turning around and returning through Craig Pass so soon discouraged thoughts of changing plans now.
Smoke at the south entrance was the thickest I have seen so far on this trip. Although it was early afternoon and there was no possibility of storm clouds in the sky, it looked like the worst of Rocky Mountain downpours approaching. Cars, which nevertheless continued through the south entrance for a weekend in Yellowstone, now had their lights on. Most were likely seeing the intense smoke and charred devastation for the first time. Some pulled off the road to take hazy pictures of now-barren overlooks, or perhaps simply stop to absorb this chapter of the park’s history as it unfolded before us.
It was soon apparent there would not be much to see of the Tetons. Little of the mountains was visible through the smoke except from the very closest viewpoints. I took a bumpy, dirt-road shortcut to Teton Village. There, the ski lift slowly hoisted visitors far into the distant haze; though visibility could not have been very good today from that smoky perch.
As I browsed through the books at the Moose, Wyoming visitor center, someone announced over the loudspeaker that the Yellowstone south entrance was now reopened. I was not aware that it had closed, but afternoon winds were increasing, and the news was not really a surprise to me. A woman at the information desk spoke as though the closure had occurred not long before. Concluding I had already seen about all of the Grand Teton National Park that I would likely be able to see today or in the near future, I decided to take advantage of the short distance to Yellowstone’s south entrance and try to reenter the park while I still could. From the road, I could see firefighters continuing to work while clouds of smoke thickened.
South of the park, immediately across the Snake River from Flagg Ranch, there was a large base of workers. A sign identified them as Huck firefighters--Huckleberry being the nearby mountain and namesake for the Huck fire that is currently very active along the Rockefeller Memorial Parkway. Names such as Huck, Clover-Mist, Hellroaring, and North Fork-Wolf Lake are now becoming strangely more familiar to many of this year's tourists than these fires’ geographic namesakes.
A string of cars passed slowly through the south entrance into the park. This time an entrance fee was charged, and my attendant, perhaps trying not to overstate the obvious, bid an enjoyable visit, without mention of the extraordinary circumstances and uncertainties this early autumn visit might surely bring.
By the time I reached the Craig Pass construction zone, the dirt and gravel was especially loose since workers had left for the day and nobody was there spraying the road with water. Somebody passed me on the road and though I tried to drop back to a safe distance, a stone hit my windshield and made a small crack in the upper right corner on the passenger side.
Saturday, September 3
Today’s visit to Mammoth Hot Springs was perhaps more enjoyable than any of my past trips to that area. For the first time since I came to Yellowstone this year, I was able to see beautiful blue sky through seemingly smoke-free air. I wonder if today’s rather strong wind while I was in this area might have been one of the main reasons for this welcome change. In other parts of the park, normally brightly colored thermal areas have been dimmed by ever-present haze. But here at Mammoth the oranges, pastel yellows, and blues literally glistened in the afternoon sun. Distant vistas could clearly be seen as they twisted out of sight.
While I was in Mammoth’s Albright Visitor Center this morning, a ranger announced a slide presentation showing fire-fighting efforts--mostly in Yellowstone’s Grant Village. Unlike the carefully scheduled films and presentations ordinarily offered at Yellowstone's visitor centers, these slides were shown with only a few minutes prior notice. Considering the much smaller number of visitors these past weeks, I wondered if they had been waiting until enough people gathered before announcing each presentation. Our group of no more than ten or fifteen stood quietly, watching from a small corner to the right of the main information desk [this corner is now used for book sales] as a ranger offered unscripted comments on the slides. Although the slides did not appear to be taken by professionals, these rangers no doubt understand the intense interest most visitors this summer have about the natural events they are witnessing. I feel that most of the rangers I have seen this week are nearly as curious and uncertain about unfolding events as the rest of us. They seem less formal and make no pretense of having all the answers. The line dividing staff and visitor now seems much less defined, and it is a refreshing change. We are all participants in this unprecedented (at least in modern times) experience. None of us, whether first-time visitor or veteran ranger, knows for sure what the next day will bring.
By later afternoon, I stopped back at my car, which was parked across from the Mammoth Dining Room, facing the old parade grounds. The sunshine and heat of the day had caused the once-small windshield crack to expand across the front of the windshield. As I sat in my car looking at this it was depressing to think I would have to look through cracked glass for the rest of the trip. But I soon got over it, reasoning that it wasn’t really hurting anything and I would have it taken care of as soon as I got home.
In the early evening, I began my drive back toward the Old Faithful area. As I drove, Mammoth’s clean air was slowly replaced with the brown smoke that has become so familiar over the past several days. I stopped briefly to walk back to Tower Fall, and found that even here the beauty I remembered from this usually spectacular view was diminished by the haze.
Continuing south, I decided to stop briefly at Canyon Village. The large parking lots continue to hold mostly firefighting equipment, school buses, and firefighters, many of whom were relaxing--or at least passing the time as best they could in the stressful, potentially life-threatening conditions they must face. A group of them sat in front of the camera store talking.
Driving between Canyon and Madison Junction, I passed a spot where a small fire was being extinguished, and on past the junction where firefighters camped in a wooded area just off the road.
Sunday, September 4
With all main roads reported open this morning, I drove from Old Faithful to Norris Junction. No fire damage was apparent until I walked the trail through the Porcelain Basin at Norris. There a wooded section above the basin’s central area has been charred by flames which burned up to the path, but did not cross it. [Note: this wooded section of the trail was closed around 1999 and is no longer in use.] Along the way to Steamboat Geyser, fire has burned across the path in two or three spots and up to one of the hot springs.
I think the most memorable moment of the day was later in the afternoon when I was finally able to see the Lower Falls of the Yellowstone. Since I got here on Tuesday the entire canyon rim area has been largely off limits, and getting through today was completely by chance. Artist Point is the only viewing area of the canyon open to motor access at this time, and the number of cars and pedestrians there nearly equaled the numbers I have seen in less eventful summers.
Smoke was especially thick in the Canyon area, and a dull brownish/amber tint filled the air. The usually bright hues of the canyon walls and rapids far below were now misty and indistinct. Behind the falls, distant smoke of active fires rose slowly from once-solid stretches of pine. Still, visitors almost literally gasped at today's canyon view; its beauty is not diminished by the haze. In fact, a strange new dimension was added to the scene as the Yellowstone River became a dimmed orange ribbon of reflected sunlight tinted through layers of wood smoke. Some observers sat quietly gazing at this almost mystical sight. Those of us who took photos found out later that this was a moment that could be captured only in our memories.
Dinner at the rustic Lake Lodge cafeteria was quiet and peaceful. At five o’clock only a handful of diners were there. The many-windowed walls offered a misty view of what one could only reason to be Yellowstone Lake; but the few who straggled in still preferred tables by the windows. This is my birthday--a most unusual day. Yet I am thankful for the good fortune to be in this place at this time.
Monday, September 5
I spent all day in the Old Faithful area. It was a lazy, relaxed day, spent walking the Lower Geyser Basin trails, dropping by the Hamilton stores, and taking a little time to stretch out in Room 152, my rustic second floor room at the Old Faithful Inn. As all the rooms in the Old House section of the Inn, it has an atmosphere of history--a real connection with the past. As most of these rooms it also has walls that are unable to adequately filter sounds from adjoining rooms. My neighbors next door seem to be staying several days and are having an ongoing argument that I really would prefer not to overhear. He has been listening to park communications among firefighters, rangers, and other emergency personnel. His radio is loud and he seems to be enjoying his visit by listening in on daily activities as they happen. She, on the other hand, wants to get out of the room more and go places. I wish to myself these two could work things out, but it doesn't seem likely.
The air was springlike today, with temperatures in the 70s. A mild breeze with an occasional chill brought back pleasant memories of my first trip here back in June 1975. The amazement and wonder of that first visit is rekindled each time I return to Yellowstone.
Today I saw Canada geese, elk of various ages, ravens, and a bird or two not fond in the east. A cutthroat trout swam in place just below one of the footbridges crossing the Firehole River.
Tuesday, September 6
Pleased with yesterday’s lack of any set schedule, I decided to do the same today and remained in the Old Faithful area. This was a decision I appreciated even more later when strong, dry afternoon winds raised concerns about road closures.
After breakfast I walked the wooded trail rising to the observation point overlooking the Old Faithful complex. Through the haze I saw distant helicopters attempting to contain the advancing North Fork fire by dropping streams of fire suppressant. They occasionally landed in the parking lot beside Old Faithful Lodge to resupply. Though any view of flames has been concealed by the fire’s location in a valley, the fire’s threat is real, now at its closest point to this peopled area. Today’s winds promise little hope for immediate improvement.
Park rangers remain unable to offer assurances. Though I have not heard them advising anyone to leave the park, they have been candid and realistic in their responses to questions--willing to admit their limited ability to predict what course the fires could take or what effect they might have on the visitor.
I would describe the mood of most people I have seen as being more one of wonder and amazement than fear. There is no observable evidence of undue concern or frazzled nerves. Mothers have not snatched up their babies heading for the nearest exit. But as the day went on there were growing signs the atmosphere could change.
A few times during the afternoon I returned to my room or sat in the lobby of the Old Faithful Inn. At one point a fire alarm sounded, and I saw employees rushing to close fire doors in the long wooden halls. I assumed it was a practice alarm, but I have not noticed similar drills in the past. A few times as I returned to my room or walked through the halls in other parts of the Inn, I found the double hallway fire doors closed--something I had not seen until today.
Later this afternoon things became a bit more strange. For supper I went to the snack shop at the Hamilton Store nearest Snow Lodge. But power had gone out in the string of shops adjoining the lodge. No food was served since cash registers and microwaves were not working. The Hamilton Store was dim and eerily silent as cashiers stood at their stations befuddled, quietly chatting among themselves and with customers. Nobody was sure why the power went out, what areas of the complex were affected, and how long the outage would last.
Strong winds continued into the later afternoon, and a great wide column of brown smoke rose more ominously from the North Fork fire less than a few miles away. Still looking for someplace to eat, I walked into the Lower Hamilton Store nearest the Old Faithful Inn, sat down at the long soda fountain counter, and placed an order. The power outage had not reached this area, and it seemed to be business as usual.
As I ate, I overheard one of the employees telling another to go outside and take a look to the west. In the meantime, a worker behind the counter said to her co-worker, “I’m taking bets on the day and the time.” We all knew she was referring to the date and time of evacuation, which now seems inevitable, barring an unexpected rain or decrease in winds.
After eating I decided to take a walk through the Upper Geyser Basin boardwalk. This was one of the few times the spectacular hot pools and geysers took second place to natural events that were unfolding around them. The familiar distant view of the Inn from across the basin was nearly obscured by gray/brown smoke. All was dimmed by daylight darkness. A tired, rather worn looking firefighter stood on the boardwalk, arms crossed, talking quietly to a curious passerby as they both gazed to the west and the growing dark cloud of smoke.
I went back to my room to get the video camera, resigned to the belief that any pictures I took could only capture some of the sights and sounds, but never the true atmosphere of this unique moment in Yellowstone’s history.
Early this evening a deep orange light filtered through smoke to cast red-orange streaks over the Old Faithful Inn’s massive stone fireplace and chimney. Noticing the haze of smoke that filled the upper levels of the lobby, an older gentleman remarked in amusement to his companions, “They should stop building those smoky fires in the fireplace.” As has been the case all evenings of this year’s stay except for one, there would in fact be no fire burning in the Inn's fireplace tonight.
After returning to my room for the night, I jot these words in my notebook: “I am concerned now (9:20PM), because the wind is howling outside, fanning flames in the park, while I have been planning on leaving tomorrow AM.” I turn in a little earlier than usual, hoping to get enough rest for tomorrow’s long day of driving to my intended destination of Rapid City, yet concerned unpredictable road closures could cause problems.
Wednesday, September 7
During the night, my room was too warm for comfortable sleeping, so I opened one of the windows. Always in the past, chilly September nights in Yellowstone made me appreciate the Inn’s warm blankets and hissing, antiquated radiators. I wonder to myself if the closeness of the North Fork fire was the reason for this unusually warm nighttime air.
Arising this morning around 5:45AM, I found a note on my door saying there was a message for me at the front desk. I approached the dim lobby, somewhat surprised at this hour to see six or eight employees standing quietly and without expression in the area of the reservation desk.
“Do you always get up this early?” asked the young woman who had sent me the message. I replied I had planned on leaving early.
“According to our records, it looks like you’re a night short in your payment.” In fact, I believed I had overpaid a night.
“The computer won’t be up for a couple of hours,” she said, “but since you were planning on leaving soon, don’t worry about it. We can take care of this later, after you get home.” That sounded good to me, and I agreed to phone them in a few days about this.
As a guest in the Old House section of the Inn, I took my shower at the shared men’s room “down the hall.” One advantage of being up so early is that there is no waiting for an available shower stall. A disadvantage is that the windows are often still open from the evening before, and the cool mountain air has made it a little too chilly for shower taking. But steamy water soon takes away the chill.
After I finished packing around 6:30AM, I took a load of baggage down the ornate log steps, went to the parking lot out back, and brought my car to the front, hoping to be able to pull up into the loading zone in front of the Inn. But a bus was already parked there. The driver stood beside the bus door as I overheard him telling a bystander Yellowstone’s east entrance had been closed and his destination was Cody. He said he would have to drive all the way north into Montana to get there. I had also planned to leave through the east entrance, and was becoming anxious to leave the park as soon as possible before additional closures occurred.
I drove my car several yards ahead and parked along the curved driveway. In front of me was a government van from which two men were unloading equipment, walking through the smoky/misty morning air to Old Faithful Geyser. One of them, apparently concerned about my motives in parking behind them, walked back to close and lock the van’s rear doors. Finally I was packed and on my way.
About a half hour later, as I drove through the park toward the north entrance, a radio broadcast announced the Old Faithful complex was being evacuated. Around 6:30AM, according to the report, employees had begun knocking on doors to alert the Inn’s guests. This was about the time I was loading luggage into my car. It was no longer a mystery why there were so many employees standing around the desk when I stopped by the lobby earlier this morning. These were the men and women whose task it was to go door to door and notify guests of the evacuation.
I passed a few bus loads of firefighters as I drove north past the steaming geyser basins, stretches of freshly burned and still smoking forest, and on toward the north entrance of Yellowstone. For the first time since I’ve been coming to the park, I was actually relieved to drive through the great stone arch, in light of the still-unfolding developments of the morning.
In nearby Gardiner, Montana, I had a relaxing breakfast at a small restaurant near the park entrance, and spent the rest of the day driving the smoke-filled highway from Livingston to Rapid City. Throughout much of the day, the top story on radio news was the evacuation of the Old Faithful complex for all except the media. One report included assurances there would be no danger of a “wall of flame” attacking the area, but that evacuation would help in efforts to keep park structures safe.
Smoke from the fires followed me all the way across Montana, Wyoming, and on into South Dakota on I-90. Even the smell of burning lodgepole pine filled the air all those hundreds of miles.
When I reached my brother Guy’s house at Ellsworth Air Force Base near Rapid City, the smoke and haze seemed not much better than it had been hours earlier near Livingston. My brother and his wife Frances commented how strange it was to know the smoke they could see and smell was from Yellowstone. They told me they had been following the news on TV and had heard flames had been put out on the roof of the Old Faithful Inn.
Later, on the evening news, we saw footage of firemen hosing down the roof of the Inn, attempting to protect it from heat and sparks of what the reporter described as a “wall of flame” that was suddenly thrust upon the area by fanning winds.
For the next couple of weeks after I had returned to Ohio the interior of my car still smelled like smoke. I soon found that photos I took did not capture the eerie atmosphere of Yellowstone as I had experienced it. A disappointment, yet something I expected would happen. And soon Yellowstone's snows began and the fires of 88 were no more--left to memory, scientific research, and endless speculation and controversy. Since then I have realized that this trip to Yellowstone, which I feared would be a great mistake, actually turned out to be one I am most grateful to have had the chance to experience.
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